


aftermath

by marvel_middleearth



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Apologies, Kissing, M/M, POV Adam Parrish, Ronan Lynch Loves Adam Parrish, Talking, all the stuff you do when you've just saved the world from a demon i suppose, angsty at first but fluffy after, first raven cycle fic i've posted whoop whoop, i tried to make this canon compliant but who knows, post-trk, this is what happens when you don't post for a while: you forget how to tag, typical ronan lynch profanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:14:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29651862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvel_middleearth/pseuds/marvel_middleearth
Summary: Adam isn't avoiding Ronan.He's not.It's just that yesterday, a demon tried to destroy the world, and Adam doesn't know where he stands after all of it.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 10
Kudos: 131





	aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> first raven cycle fic i'm happy enough with to post! sending this out into the void in the hopes someone sees it <3
> 
> tw for mentions of self-harm (i.e. what Adam did to himself when he was possessed by the demon). i think that's it but if i've missed anything please let me know and i'll update this.

The strange half-light of morning is streaming through the curtains when Adam wakes in the living room of 300 Fox Way. The house is quiet and peaceful around him, the rest of Henrietta slowly waking up outside, the sun rising as though a demon hadn't nearly destroyed the world the previous day.

Adam shrugs aside the oddly-patterned crochet quilt he'd borrowed to sleep beneath — Persephone's handiwork, he thinks, and feels a twinge of loss. His throat is begging for a drink, so he glances back at where the others are sleeping before climbing to his feet.

The living room is cluttered with sleeping teenagers and assorted colourful blankets, a patchwork of limbs and fabric. After the nightmarish ordeal that was Gansey's death and resurrection, Ronan's almost-unmaking, and a demon attempting to rip apart the fabric of the world, none of them had been willing to let the others out of their sight. The women of Fox Way had donated every spare blanket in the house to the teens, who had held out against sleep long enough to arrange the blankets into some sort of bed before passing out from sheer exhaustion. Most of the gang is still there: Blue and Gansey are curled up together beneath a knitted blanket, their chests rising and falling in almost-perfect sync — Adam guiltily avoids looking at the new stitches around Blue’s eye — and Henry is flat on his back in a pile of variously-shaped pillows, snoring softly. Ronan is noticeably absent.

There's quiet movement from the kitchen as Adam pads towards it, as though someone is pottering around, but softly, so as not to wake the sleeping household. The floorboards creak above Adam's head as someone crosses a room; at least two of Fox Way's inhabitants are awake, though the house remains still with morning peace.

Adam enters the kitchen and that fragile peace is broken.

_ Ronan. _

He’s leaning against the countertop, his edges and angles softened by the dim morning light. He's clad only in shorts and a black tank top, snatched hurriedly from his room last night when they'd stopped at Monmouth to find Noah. (Noah hadn't been there. Or anywhere, really.)

(Adam misses him fiercely. Loss is an all-encompassing ache that has seized him by the heart and refuses to let go.)

Ronan has pilfered the orange juice carton from the refrigerator, and has a glass of juice halfway to his lips when his gaze lands on Adam. "Parrish." His voice sounds strange. Adam tries not to dwell on it.

"Lynch," Adam responds. His gaze lands on Ronan's neck and stops.

The bruises are horrifyingly vivid against Ronan's pale skin, blotchy patches of deep purple and blue. They're graphic reminders of that moment only hours ago, of Adam's hands around Ronan's neck, squeezing, squeezing —

He tears his eyes away and forces himself to cross the room. "Glasses?" he asks, after opening one cabinet to find a strange assortment of mismatched dinner plates, dried herbs, and brightly-coloured painted pebbles, and another filled almost to bursting with bowls of varying sizes.

"Cupboard to your left," Ronan replies, taking a swig of juice.

Adam follows his instructions and retrieves a glass. Ronan sets down his own and watches as Adam turns on the tap and begins to fill his glass.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

Adam falters. Water rushes into his glass and threatens to overflow. Ronan appears behind him, bare feet soft on the floorboards, and reaches past Adam to turn off the tap before water can spill over the lip of the glass. They stand there for a moment, Adam's knuckles white around the glass, Ronan so close behind him Adam can feel his breath against the back of his neck.

"I'm not avoiding you," Adam says finally.

Ronan steps back to give Adam room to turn around. Adam takes a long sip of his water to stall for time. When he eventually turns, Ronan has his arms folded lightly across his chest and an unreadable expression on his face. "Bullshit," he says, though there is no real heat to the words. "You're not even looking at me."

Adam forces his gaze up. He stubbornly refuses to look at the bruises. "Better?" he retorts.

"Marginally," Ronan says dryly. "What is up with you, man? We saved the world, or whatever."

" _ You,"  _ Adam corrects sharply. " _ You  _ saved the world. You, Gansey, Blue, Henry, Noah. I was an inconvenience at best."

"If this is about that fucking demon —"

"Of  _ course  _ this is about  _ that fucking demon!"  _ Adam is aware of the fragility of the silence around them, so he keeps his tone low yet furious. Pressure builds behind his eyes, tears pricking at their edges; Adam blinks them away. He refuses to let Ronan see him cry right now. "What the hell else would it be  _ about?!  _ You want to know why I've been avoiding you, Ronan? It's because every time I  _ look _ at you I see my hands around your neck and you dying in front of me and I can't think a goddamn thing except  _ this is my fault —" _

"Breathe, Parrish," Ronan says, and Adam reluctantly releases the tension in his shoulders with a shaky sigh, his free hand balled into a fist. He sets the glass down on the countertop before it can break between his fingers. "It's okay,” Ronan goes on, in that calm, steady tone. “It’s okay.”

Adam snaps, "It's not  _ okay —" _

"Listen, dumbass, before you end up blaming yourself again," Ronan says quietly. "Did you know that sacrificing yourself to Cabeswater could have consequences? Yes. Did you do it anyway? Yes. Dumb but ultimately important move there, Parrish. Did you know that some freaky shitshow of a demon would possess your hands and try to kill me? No."

"But —"

"Did you want to kill me?"

"No —"

"Then it isn't your fault."

Adam closes his eyes. It's difficult to refute Ronan's argument, but the guilt and regret are just as difficult to let go of. "All the same," he mumbles, "I won't blame you if you want to leave me."

"Why would I —" Ronan's hand comes up to cradle Adam's face, one finger stroking the deep scratches on his cheek with feather-light touches. "I want  _ you,  _ Adam," Ronan says softly. "I want  _ you." _

It's hard to comprehend the honesty in Ronan's gaze. Adam has known about Ronan's interest in him for a while now, his conclusion drawn from gazes held too long and kisses in sunlight-filled bedrooms and small gestures which mean so much more coming from this sharp-edged raven boy. Adam likes it. Likes  _ him.  _ Ronan makes him quiet, the way Blue does for Gansey. Ronan makes him feel whole.

Adam takes a breath. Lets it out. Takes a breath.

Ronan kisses him.

His hand is soft against Adam's cheek. Adam's eyes flick open for a moment in surprise, then flutter closed as he sighs against Ronan's mouth. Ronan's other hand lands on Adam's hip, pulling him closer. Adam wraps his arms around Ronan's waist and leans in.

Adam's back hits the counter; he barely notices. His senses are overwhelmed with  _ Ronan:  _ Ronan's hand on his cheek, Ronan's nose brushing against his own, Ronan's lips against his. It is still the forest fire from the kiss at the Barns, still the feeling of magic and adrenaline thrumming through him the way Cabeswater had, but it is slower, sweeter, more reverent. It's just him and Ronan and the peace of the morning; it feels strangely but happily domestic. The quiet is interrupted only by the soft sound of their breath as they break apart for a moment before one of them recaptures the other's lips once more.

"Good morning," Henry yawns, strolling into the kitchen. Ronan's mouth abruptly leaves Adam's as he turns his head to glare. Henry regards them once with sleepy interest before continuing, "Sorry to interrupt, that looked very intense. I was hoping there'd be more people awake. I'm hungry. Do you think these people have waffles?"

"I wouldn't know," Adam says slowly, still pressed chest-to-chest with Ronan, the edge of the counter cold against the small of his back.

"Shame," Henry replies, briefly investigating the contents of the fridge and apparently finding them unsatisfactory.

“ _ Cheng,”  _ Ronan says meaningfully from between gritted teeth.

"Oh. Right. I'll leave you two to your little rendezvous," Henry winks slyly. Ronan doesn't stop glowering until Henry waltzes from the room, grinning like a cat who's got the cream, or maybe more like Opal whenever she finds a particularly good stick to gnaw on.

They stand there for a moment in silence. Ronan is at once sharp and soft; every edge of him is razor-sharp though still slightly hazy with weariness and love. Adam wants to hold onto him forever.

Adam knows that if he holds on, it could destroy them both. It nearly did before.

“Sorry,” Adam breathes.

“Stop,” Ronan snaps. The desperation in his tone makes Adam's heart ache. “Just stop, Adam. How many times have I made a mistake? Jesus shit, if we were counting fuckups, I'd outdo you a hundred times over. You should have left me months ago. Years.”

“That's —”  _ Different,  _ Adam thinks.

“Don't you dare.” Ronan's sharp tone turns pained. “Stop pushing me away. Just let me love you. Please. Let me try.”

“I don't want to hurt you again.” Adam's voice is smaller than he'd like it to be.

“Most people would be telling you not to cut yourself on  _ me.” _

“It isn’t you that I’m afraid of.”

“Cabeswater is gone.” Ronan lifts one hand to cup Adam’s chin, his thumb stroking the edge of his jaw. “The demon is gone. Do you know who I see in front of me? Adam Parrish. Magician, student, psychic, sometimes a dumbass, top of his class at Aglionby and soon to be top of every class at whichever university takes his fancy. My boyfriend.”

Adam’s pulse stutters. “Boyfriend?” he echoes.

“Yeah.” Ronan lifts his hand to chew on the leather bands about his wrist, seems to think better of it, and settles his palm back against Adam’s cheek. “That is, if you want to be.”

“I…”

Does he want this?

_ Yes,  _ his mind supplies immediately.  _ Yes, yes, yes. _

Does he deserve this?

_ Yes,  _ says a voice in his mind which sounds uncannily like Ronan.  _ You deserve this. You love him. He loves you. Take a leap of faith. _

_ “Yes,”  _ Adam breathes against Ronan’s lips.

Ronan leans forward ever-so-slightly to close the distance between them. This kiss is the softest Adam has ever felt: brief and tender but overflowing with meaning. It’s there and then gone again, and Ronan is pulling away just enough to meet Adam’s gaze, his expression serious. “I have to tell you something,” he begins, his tone wavering on a knife’s edge between solemn and uncertain, “which I’m sure you’ve probably figured out by now. I don’t… I don’t do casual. Relationships, I mean. Anything. I can’t — I want this. You. And as disgustingly cliché as it sounds, I’m going to put my all into this. But if you’re — if you won’t put in anything in return, I…”

“I know.” Adam regards him with the tiniest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Ronan Lynch mates for life.”

Ronan lets out a huff of air which seems to constitute a laugh. “Gansey told you that?”

“Yeah. But I came to a similar hypothesis on my own.”

Ronan hums softly. Adam wants to run a hand across his face, feel the angles and contours of his jaw and cheekbones beneath his palm, but Ronan is talking again before Adam can convince his hand to move away from Ronan’s waist. “Adam, I — I’m in. I’m in this.” His expression wavers with uncertainty. “Are you?”

Adam tilts his head until their foreheads are touching, shifts on his feet until they’re pressed up against each other. He can feel Ronan’s heart pounding where their chests brush. “I’m in.”

“Good,” Ronan says, and kisses him again.

***

"We should probably," Adam mumbles sometime later, Ronan's mouth tracking kisses across his jaw, "move this somewhere more private than Blue's kitchen."

Ronan makes a scornful noise. Adam points out, "People might walk in on us," though he's a little too distracted recapturing Ronan's lips to truly care.

Ronan pulls away for a moment with a wicked grin. "So what? Let them. Personally, I can't wait to see the look on Gansey's face when he walks in on us making out."

"Blue's going to murder us for not telling her we’re a couple," Adam says, looking up at Ronan from beneath his lashes.

Ronan pulls Adam closer. "I suppose I'd better kiss you as much as I can before that happens, then."

Adam smiles, slow and soft and fond. "Can't argue with that."

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! hope y'all are doing alright, and if you aren't, here's your daily reminder to look after yourself <3 y'all are awesome


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